


Not For Me

by Davys_dead



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, Panic attack?, Poems in here fam, eat em up, still don’t know how to tag things, theyre both just extra as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 12:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15142997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davys_dead/pseuds/Davys_dead
Summary: I've never known loveOr been shown love, you seeAnd maybe there is such a thingBut not for me





	Not For Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y’all! This fic was inspired by the Bobby Darin song “Not For Me” so here ya go!

**Simon**

  I’m just about ready to start a fire. I can feel my magic flying off of me. Saturated sparks and rivulets of motion. I try to push it down, push it back into my veins, but I'm an open wound of power right now. It doesn’t take long until the waves start. Beams of power shoot out of my skin like I’m some kind of laser, and no matter how inappropriate the timing is, the thought of it is positively _wicked._ I feel like one of the superheroes I used to read about in the comics I stole from the store a block or two away from the second home I lived in. That’s the last thought I have before I black out.

 

  I’m in my bed when I wake up. They used to take me to the infirmary after I went off but now someone just takes me back to my room if I don’t seem to be hurt. I don’t know how they manage to move me. Levitation spells are iffy, so someone must’ve carried me up here all the times I’ve gone off. I think it might be one of the Mage’s Men. Maybe Premal.

  Baz is sitting at his desk across the room, shrouded in the settings sun’s light. Crowley, I must’ve been out for a long time. I went off in the morning when the Humdrum sent another one of his ‘minions.’ Baz’s typing on his laptop is almost certainly the thing that woke me up. It’s clickety clacking seems deafening in the relative silence of the room.

  “You could try to type a bit quieter you know,” I say, rubbing the sleep out my eyes. My mouth tastes terrible, like smoke.

  “You never seem to have a problem banging around while I’m trying to sleep, Snow, I was just returning the favor.”

  I roll my eyes. Baz is one petty bastard.

 

  Penny is waiting for me at the dinner table when I go down to eat. Today’s one of the serving days, and a group of third years are passing out plates of food. My stomach rumbles, “Damn if I’m not hungry.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t find a way to come out of your stupor during lunch. It was rather delicious today. Lots of food.”

  My stomach rumbles, “ _Penny,_ don’t tease. I was really out this time.”

  “I know, you didn’t even wriggle when Baz took you up to your room.”

  I turn to face her, shocked, “ _What?_ ”

  She rolls her eyes, “How else did you think you’ve been getting up there?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head, “I thought maybe one of the Mage’s Men was doing it.”

  “I think they might have more important things to do.”

  “What? Other than helping the chosen one?”

  “Oh please, a lie out on the great lawn won’t cause you any harm.”

  “I might get sunburnt.”

  “We’re in England, Simon. It’s October.”

  “You never know.”

  Penny just shakes her head.

 

**Baz**

  The three of them together are just fine. A golden trio. They don’t realise that everyone’s looking at them all of the time. Especially me. They shine, at their table in the corner of the room. But Simon and Agatha take up the whole space with their presence. Agatha is noticed purely for her looks, a sad absurdity. I know how well she’s doing in her classes. She’s a lot more than a pretty face. And Simon… _Crowley_ , he’s all I can think about when he enters a room. I have to think very hard not to stare at him, not to drink him in. Not in a vampire way, no, but in a “need to breathe” way.

  I try to chastise myself when I get like this, It’s needlessly melodramatic. It almost hurts to see myself degraded into a bumbling mess of _want._ But I can’t help but look over at them and think. It’s devastatingly beautiful how love can be all around us, but is designated for a select few. Because I know there’s such a thing as love, I feel it everyday, but it’s not for me.

 

  Dev and Niall are rather bored of my moping, but it’s hard not to. Simon and Agatha seem to be spending more time together away from Penny, and I try not to think of the implications of that but they come crowding into my headspace, all fighting to be at the forefront of my mind. I’m getting rather sick of myself as well. I try to bury it in the blood I drink in the catacombs, but when I get back to our room the smell of him, the magic in him, knocks me out of my orbit. It’s funny, really. Him, the sun, the thing in the center of my universe, keeps blowing me off my axis, pushing me away from him, when all I want is to get closer.

 

  Simon comes barging in after dinner like he always does. He’s like if an elephant stampede got turned into a person. He doesn’t immediately plop face first onto his bed, so I know I’m about to be accused of plotting something. I sigh and look up from my laptop because I know he’s waiting for me to, “Yes, Snow?”

  “Penny told me you've been carrying me up to our room after I go off.”

  “Who else is going to do it? Ms. Possibelf?”

  Simon looks stumped. I always beat him in word games like this. When it comes to fighting, though, I will always let him win, “Is that all?”

  Simon just kicks the side of his bed frame and slouches into the bathroom. I don’t feel any semblance of success as I turn back to my homework.

 

**Simon**

 

  “I swear Baz is up to something, Penny.”

  “You always think he’s up to something.”

  “Sometimes he is.”

  “The operative word there is _sometimes._ Everybody does a certain thing _sometimes,_ Simon, It doesn’t mean that that’s their main character trait.”

  “I can _feel_ it.”

  “Are your spidey senses tingling?”

  “There’s no reason to tease.”

  “There’s every reason to tease when you’re acting ridiculous, Simon.”

 

**Baz**

  “He brushed past my chest and my heart stopped

It made me ache

It tore me apart

Because I knew

He was just

Reaching for the pen

He had left

In my fingertips”

 

  “Very good, Basilton. You may sit now.”

  I sit back down in my chair at the back of the classroom. We’d been asked to write poems in prose in our studies of spells this week and I’d tried to make mine mundane, but I couldn’t not write about Simon. I fill with a sort of anticipatory dread as our teacher calls Simon up to the front to read his poem, and I try not to cringe for him before he starts. Snow has never been the best with words.

 

“A husk

A piece

A remembrance

Full, then hollow

 

A sliver

A chunk

A part of me

There, then gone”

 

  My mind falls silent. Invisible waves crash over me. Relentless. Because I know. _I know._ I am in love with Simon Snow.

  When we leave the classroom I have a plan. I run back to Mummer’s House and start writing. I try to organize my thought on the page, but it’s just an embarrassing stream of I love you’s. It feels like a letter a twelve year old would write to their grade school crush. Why is now the time I run out of words to say? I skip dinner, thinking. I never eat in there anyway. Cook Pritchard and I have a system. There’s always a bit of food set aside for me in the kitchen after every meal.

  Simon comes back much too early and I’m an embarrassing mess. My hair’s stuck up all over my head, a mix of the hair gel I use and the way I’ve been wringing my hair out trying to come up with a plan. I’m not nearly as good at plotting as Snow thinks I am.

  “You look like you’ve had a rough night,” he says, dropping his bag to the ground.

  I resist the default retort that forms in my mind, “Yeah...I…um. Yeah.”

  Simon looks confused, an entirely warranted expression, “What’s this, then? Baz Pitch at a loss for words?” he says it more appalled than mocking. It takes some of the sting out of the words.

  I can’t do anything but pace, my hands still pulling at my hair. Like if I pull it all the way out the follicles at the end will have the answers to my problems. And I can hear Simon speaking, but his voice is muffled in my ears because all there is in the world is this disembodied voice saying “thinkthinkthink,” and I’m drowning in it. I’m lost, lost in this world where every thought and feeling is stuck. It’s stuck right in my chest and I can’t get it out. And sometimes it’s just little things, like when Daphne has the stereo up too loud at home but I’m too afraid to ask her to turn it down because I’m such a burden already. And then it’s big things, like not being able to talk to my father or being too scared to have a real conversation with the boy I love. Because _Crowley_ do I love him.

  So I start to sink. And I’m on the cold floor of our room. And all I can think is _coward_...because that’s what I am.

 

**Simon**

  “Baz?” he’s not listening and he’s pacing, almost manic, back and forth and I’m really not sure what to do. Because, knowing our history, I don’t think touching him would go over well but my voice doesn’t seem to carry through this barrier he’s built up around himself. And right now, in this moment, I fucking hate us for letting this get to a point where we have to watch each other suffer.

  “Baz,” I say, louder than before. He’s stopped pacing, but that means his sinking down to the floor. He’s collapsing in on himself as I watch. I get down on my knees so I’m right in front of him and, slowly, so slowly, I reach over and touch his shoulder.

 

**Baz**

  Simon touches my shoulder and it pulls me out of the haze. But then I remember why it started in the first place. Because of the person in front of me. An absolute parody of trope. The worst chosen one that’s ever been chosen… and I think I might kiss him. And just as the thought forms in my head, his hand moves from my shoulder to the back of my neck. And his face is mere inches from mine. And the air is thick with the scent of him. And then Simon Snow, my enemy, the only boy I’ve ever loved, kisses me. And I can’t help but think… maybe all of the things I never thought I could have, might not be so far out of reach after all.

  
  
  



End file.
